


Negative Two Degrees

by AnneCumberbatch



Series: Sometimes in the Evening [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blankets, Caring John, Cold Weather, Cuddling, Cuddly Sherlock Holmes, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Boyfriends, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Life at 221B Baker Street, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, Gen, Kissing, M/M, Short & Sweet, Sleepy John Watson, Snapshots, Snuggling, Sometime in the Evenings, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 18:42:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17606840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneCumberbatch/pseuds/AnneCumberbatch
Summary: It's absolutely frigid outside, but John always keeps Sherlock warm.





	Negative Two Degrees

**Author's Note:**

> To those who are sure to wonder, it is -2 degrees Celsius, which translates to around 28.4 degrees Fahrenheit, which is as cold as it is in London today (30th of January 2019).

Sherlock didn’t realise he was shivering until he lifted his fingers to turn the page of the journal he was reading. His long white fingers trembled to grasp the next page to lift it. He blinked as the recognition of being cold fell across his body and a shudder shook him in his chair. His eyes darted to where the afghan was draped across the back of John’s chair, but to get up would mean to move and to move would allow the body heat trapped in his curled-up body to dissipate. The promise of the eventual warmth of the afghan was not enough to entice Sherlock to move from his chair. He pressed his arms closer to his side as his body gave another shiver. The temperature in London had dropped significantly the previous evening and Sherlock could feel the harsh winds seeping in through the cracks in the windows of the apartment. John was out working a very late shift and wouldn’t be back until close to midnight. Sherlock listened to the wind howling outside the window before shivering again. His attention dropped back to the journal, the information on the pages drawing his mind away from the chill of his environment.

 

The thudding of boots at the top of the stairs startled him out of his concentration and he looked up to his beloved shucking his thick coat and lugging off his boots. Once John was less burdened by heavy outerwear, he looked up and smiled at Sherlock. He strode over to Sherlock’s chair and Sherlock tilted his face up for a kiss. “Bit cold out there.” John smiled as he pressed his lips against Sherlock’s.

As their lips touched, Sherlock jerked away from him abruptly. “Your mouth is _freezing_.”

John laughed and leaned in to kiss him again. “One way to warm them up…”

Sherlock ducked his head, avoiding the invasion of cold. He lifted one hand and pushed against John’s chest. “No! I’m already cold enough!”

John stopped and dropped his head, laughing. “Alright, alright. I’ll have a cuppa and maybe a kiss after?”

Sherlock gave him a huff of approval and turned back to his journal, which was nearing the end. John went into the kitchen and put the kettle under the faucet, filling it up before replacing it on its pad. He flipped it on and then took down two mugs and the box of tea. He glanced back into the living room at Sherlock. His forehead creased. “Sherlock?”

“Mm?” Sherlock didn’t look up from his journal, his body curled as tightly as possible into himself.

“Are you cold?”

Sherlock didn’t move but raised his eyes to look at John. “It’s negative two-degrees Celsius outside. Of course I’m cold.”

“You’re inside, Sherlock. It should be warm inside. I think it’s warm.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “You were just in said negative two-degree weather. Of course, you think it’s warm in here.”

John’s eyes stayed on him, taking in his body posture. “Why didn’t you get the blanket from my chair? It’s four feet away from you.”

Sherlock shook his head. “If I move, the body heat I have been collecting will dissipate. I barely notice it when I’m reading.” He turned his attention back to the book in his hands.

John rolled his eyes. “You are an idiot.” He strode forwards and jerked the blanket off the back of his chair and flung it on top of Sherlock, covering him completely.

“JOHN!” Sherlock squawked, his arms flailing beneath the sudden darkness that surrounded him. He pulled the blanket off his head and glared at his partner. “I was reading!”

“You were cold!” John laughed at him.

Sherlock huffed and took a moment to wrap the blanket around him, his eyes closing briefly in appreciation of the added warmth. “Still not very nice of you.”

John went back to the kitchen and poured the hot water into the mugs, dropped the teabags in, and waited while they began to brew. “I gave you a blanket.”

“You threw it on top of me.”

“I fixed your temperature problem.”

“John, you threw a blanket on top of my head. That is hardly solving a problem.”

John grinned and leaned back against the counter. “That’s because you’re an idiot.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and pointedly turned back to his book, snuggling further into the blanket.

A few moments later, John placed a steaming mug next to him and knelt to start a fire. Sherlock reached over and grasped the mug, inhaling sharply at the sudden heat that touched his hand. As he lifted the mug to his lips, small tendrils of steam and earl grey floated in the air in front of his face. He inhaled deeply and sighed softly in contentment. “Thank you.”

John looked up from where he was kneeling and had the audacity to wink at him. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

Sherlock pretended to ignore him and turned back to his journal.

As soon as the fire had been started and encouraged, John settled back into his chair, sipping his tea. He settled his feet up in the corner of Sherlock’s chair, shoving his toes beneath Sherlock’s leg, which had initially gathered a glare, but now, Sherlock absently lowered his left hand and was gently running his fingers over John’s bare ankles. John closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, his body relaxing, and his hands holding his warm mug against his chest. The flat settled into a peaceful quiet punctuated by the occasional crackle from the fire as it sent waves of heat up into the room.

 

John was startled back to alertness when Sherlock poked an index finger against his ankle repeatedly. “What?”

Sherlock looked at him over the closed journal resting in his lap. “Are your lips an appropriate temperature now?”

John’s tongue darted out to lick them. “I believe so. Would you like to check yourself?”

Sherlock hesitated before leaning forward and offering his cheek. John rolled his eyes before scooting forward until he was resting on his knees before Sherlock’s chair and gently pressed his mouth against Sherlock’s cheek. Sherlock quickly moved under John’s touch until their lips were together. A deep rumbling hum came from deep in Sherlock’s chest. “Much better.”

John smiled and kissed him again. “Good. That’s all I wanted when I came home. I was thinking about it all evening.”

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow. “It’s not as if this is an unusual occurrence.”

John shrugged and showered kisses across his face. “Just an enjoyable one.

“Mm. Agreed.” Sherlock smiled and snuggled further under the afghan.

John looked at him in amusement. “Bed?”

“But I’m warm right here. The bedroom is going to be frigid.”

John glanced backwards. “I absolutely refuse to sleep out here. We’ll warm it up quickly enough.”

Sherlock wrapped the blanket further around him in response. “John, my very bones are cold. I don’t want to move unless your life, or my life is at stake.”

“Fine.” John groaned as he pushed himself up to stand. “I’m going to get ready for bed. If you eventually deign yourself able to join me, I would like that very much. But if you would rather sleep there, that’s up to you.”

Sherlock nodded, blinking up at John in the dim light. “Alright.”

 

The soft mattress absorbed John as he tumbled into it, his eyes falling shut as he wrapped the cold blankets around himself. With a deep inhale and exhale, his body relaxed into the bed and the exhaustion from the late shift took over and he drifted off to sleep.

After a few minutes, he was roused by a warm presence pressed against his back. His mouth twitched in a smile as he felt an arm snake around his stomach and pull him close. He rested his own hand on top of Sherlock’s and squeezed. “Night, my love.”

A soft kiss pressed itself against the back of John’s head in response and he let sleep pull him away.

**Author's Note:**

> Questions, comments, and critiques are always welcome. Thank you for reading!


End file.
